


may my heart be your shelter (and my arms be your home)

by milkshakesandmurders



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Photographer Jughead, Tumblr Prompt, maybe some smut, wedding planner betty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-03-03 02:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13331436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkshakesandmurders/pseuds/milkshakesandmurders
Summary: Betty Cooper is well known, in-demand Wedding Planner within Riverdale. Betty loves love. Hoping to one day find her own special person in the world.But her path once again crosses none other than cynical (and equally in demand) wedding photographer, Jughead Jones.Together, they can create the ultimate picture perfect wedding.Their views though? Far from the same, and worlds apart.Can they overcome their differences before one couple calls them out.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> HEY EVERYONE.  
> (yeah, me again.)  
> I saw this prompt come through on the @bughead-fanfic-wishlist and well, it’s like it called out to me.... I fell in love!  
> It’s taken me a few days to write it...
> 
> So I thoroughly hope you enjoy! xxx

_Prompt; Cynical wedding photographer Jughead who takes amazing gorgeous pictures but believes marriages aren't built to last based on his own home life & his best friend Archie's. Weddings are posed, put on and the photographer merely captures what people want to see - the romance, the love. He constantly feuds his perspectives with equally in demand wedding planner, Betty, with whom he works with often. Together, they create picture perfect weddings but their views on love & romance are world's apart_

 

* * *

 

 

If you asked Betty Cooper to describe herself in three words; she would look at you, quirk an eyebrow, and straighten her shoulders - followed by “three words?” Fiddling a little more with the hem of her sweater, teeth digging into her bottom lip -thinking, _hard_ \- shaking her head, “no, I don’t know.”

If you then asked Betty Cooper’s friends to describe her in three words; passionate, organised and eager to please (Okay, so a _few more_ words) would be the consensus.  
Betty Cooper loved organization.  
Betty Cooper loved being in charge.  
Betty Cooper especially loved helping people.  
So when she helped her mother plan her second wedding; becoming a wedding planner was the next logical step.  
It wasn’t an easy logical step, by any means.  
She had very little experience. Planning school events such as; bake sales, dances and talent nights didn’t quite equal planning an entire wedding - for strangers.

Becoming the best in the business was her end goal. Being the one that people wanted was what Betty aimed for. What Betty didn’t expect though - was for it to happen so _quickly_. She put that down to not a whole lot of demand for wedding planners within Riverdale.

Between being _the best_ in the business, and being in high demand (fielding calls, emails and text messages 24/7) had its upsides and its downsides.  
Betty was a professional at helping people in love. But Betty herself being in love?  
Again, she’d laugh. Betty and love were both very foreign concepts. She wasn’t looking for Love.  
If it came along, she’d embrace it. With open arms. But, she wasn’t actively seeking love.

  
_That was until......_

 

**

 

Betty pulled open the door to One Fine Day; the cafe she and Veronica (sans Sweet Pea) had agreed to meet up at for coffee and talk all things wedding.

Spotting the _ever_ flawless Veronica in the far corner, Betty rushed over, and took the seat opposite, before placing her handbag and laptop bag on the seat next to her.

“Thank you so much for agreeing to meet at such short notice, Betty. I realize how busy you are, so I’m oh so appreciative,” she raised her hand to signal the waitress, “coffee?”

“Oh,” Betty looked up, “just a soy latte, please,” offering a smile at the extremely disinterested waitress.

Veronica proceeded to rattle off some tongue twister of an order, _something_ about caramel, skim milk and extra hot. Betty shuddered, -if this was the coffee order, what was the wedding going to be like?- but smiled as the waitress scurried back to the counter.

“So, I mentioned in my email about suppliers,” Betty nodded, “and as you said, you may know of him. Look, I’d be _surprised_ if you hadn’t worked with him, even,” Veronica’s eyes snapped up to the door, as the small chime went off to indicate a new customer, “oh, speak of the handsome devil, here he is.”

Betty’s heart hammered, the air on her arms at attention and her jaw clenched.  
Slowly turning around, her suspicions were confirmed.  
_Jughead Jones. The one and only._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _Veronica Lodge._  
_Sweet Pea (full legal name, unsure, will definitely need to find that out)._  
_They have been engaged for 18 months, and_  
_together for five years._  
_Veronica runs her own (highly successful) fashion label,_  
_Sweet Pea is the owner operator of a local mechanic._

  
Tree-lined streets, and exotic luxury cars parked curb-side pass as Betty drives down one of Riverdale’s most affluent streets; known to the locals as _Millionaire’s Boulevard_.

  
This seems _very_ Veronica, she quietly says out-loud; from the emails exchanged and the handful of phone calls shared (which wasn’t very many) – Veronica seemed very, well, _adjusted_.  
Turning the music down as her GPS indicated she was nearing her destination, Betty darted her eyes between the road in front, and the houses to her left.

  
_181 Riverdale Boulevard._

  
Betty’s eyes widened (to what could possibly be described as the size of a small planet) as she pulled her British racing green Mini Cooper S into the driveway.  
Betty is no stranger to well-off couples; couples with money, and couples that were successful (couples that were far too busy to plan their own weddings). These couples are the couples that pay Betty’s bills, fill her car up with fuel, pay for her groceries, and keep a roof over her head.

  
However, this time was the first time she had had a client of such a high caliber; in saying that though, Veronica and Sweet Pea weren’t officially clients -Betty still had ample time to fuck it up.

Maneuvering the car as close to the wall (without scratching her pride and joy) proved to be difficult, but after an embarrassing amount of attempts; Betty reached over and pressed the red button on the bottom of the unusually small intercom (in comparison to the mansion looming behind the ridiculously large gates), and waited for the indication that someone was answering her call. Once that confirmation came through, she introduced herself, “Hi, my name is Betty Cooper, I’m here to see Miss Veronica Lodge and, _ah_ -“ her eyebrows meeting in the middle, and a small giggle threatening to escape, “- _ah_ , Mr Sweet Pea.”

Glancing over to her handbag on the passenger seat; her fingers fiddling with the hem of her sweater, she waited, and waited and waited a little longer, she started getting agitated. But, as she was about to reach over the intercom, the gates opened.  
_Oh, good._

“Drive through, Miss Cooper. Miss Lodge and Master Sweet Pea are eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

Quickly reaching over, and pressing the intercom button, she replied with a soft thank you.  
Betty Cooper was nothing but always polite.  
Making her way up the driveway, she couldn’t help the smile that formed as the flowers that ran alongside the driveway gently moved in the breeze. Betty noted that either Veronica or Sweet Pea liked flowers.

 

 

Waiting on the obnoxiously large couch in the middle of their extravagant lounge room, Betty took in her surroundings; leather, lots of flowers, couple photos, and fur ( _lots of fur_ ). Veronica and Sweet Pea had gone to the kitchen to gather coffees, biscuits and a folder that (turns out) Sweet Pea had put together for their meeting; this kind of shocked Betty, a little.

Retrieving her own folder, as well as the laptop and notepad & pen, she busied herself getting everything set up. The initial meeting with potential clients usually goes for about an hour.  
It’s to get an understanding of what they’re both hoping to achieve for their special day; as well as suggestions for suppliers and working out their budget (which Betty assumed, wasn’t likely to exist – which made the business woman in her smile like a Cheshire cat).

 

A few more minutes passed and the soon to be married couple appeared armed with drinks and snacks, and lovesick smiles. Betty couldn’t help but the feel the warmth in her heart swell.

The trio immersed themselves in all things wedding related; Betty was busy taking notes as Veronica and Sweet Pea chatted about what they wanted their big day to be like. What Betty did find amusing was how much of a say Sweet Pea wanted. But, what she really should remember is “ _never judge a book by its cover_ ” - she’s seen it on more than one occasion. The bride doesn’t care much for details, but the groom. Well, Groomzilla is an entirely different ball game.

An hour and 15 minutes has passed when they started wrapping up their meeting, “look, I think, to at least get started, you two have made my job easy,” Betty giggled, as she starting putting things away, she turned around, “now, this is obviously just the first meeting, so I like to give my couples the opportunity to chat, and to establish if they’re happy to essentially hand over the reigns for the planning process. I won’t obviously do _everything_ , for example, if there’s a particular photographer that you’re after, as that itself is a very personal decision, that’s fine. Let me know, and I’ll cross that off the list,” standing up, Veronica and Sweet Pea starting walking toward the front door, “you have my email and my mobile, feel free to call me or email, whichever is easier, and if you both decided you wish to go ahead, we’ll go from there!” Betty flashed her best Betty Cooper smile, shook hands with Sweet Pea, and happened to exchange a cheek kiss and hug with Veronica.

They all bid farewell and Betty was back in her car, commencing her short journey home.

Stopping off at Pop’s on her way through, ordering her usual takeaway - vanilla milkshake, cheeseburger and fries - not long after, having stuffed her face, she flicked through Netflix, before settling on Stranger Things.

 

**

 

After just a few short days; Betty had received an email (that’s a lie, Betty receives lots of emails), but this email in particular made her smile, and let out a little squeal, whilst simultaneously clapping her hands together in excitement,

 

_Hi Betty!_

_I trust this email finds you safe and well._

_Sweet Pea and I have discussed and agreed we would absolutely love to have your assist with the planning of our day! But if I’m going to be honest, I had decided before you even left our home. Hehe, but don’t tell Pea that!_

_I would love to meet up again._

_Unfortunately, it’ll just be me though. Pea is swamped at the shop, and I’d rather not pull him away from that. He’s understaffed and I don’t want him stressed._

_I’m free for brunch tomorrow, if that suits?_

_You mentioned about suppliers; we have picked our own photographer, and he’ll be coming tomorrow too! I’d love for you two meet! I assume you’ll be working closely with our suppliers, especially with our chosen photographer._

_I hear and read he’s very well regarded in the wedding industry, and his photos from what I’ve seen are out of this world. He seems to really capture his couples and their love. And, I’m squealing on the inside!_

_But I’m babbling, how does 11am sound tomorrow?_

_Let me know!_

_V x_

 

Betty stared at the email; her mind taking her to one person, the one photographer, the one man that can well and truly drive her up the wall, the only other living human that is ‘well regarded within the wedding industry’.  
  
Leaning back in her chair, eyes boring into the ceiling above her. Betty groaned.  
needing a few minutes to process this information; her mind was a flurry. If, and it was a big if; their chosen photographer was him - she knew she’d need to prepare, she would have to prepare. Betty responded to Veronica’s email confirming the time and suggested where to meet.

Working with Jughead Jones, again. It was always an experience, to say the very least.  
He challenged her thoughts and her way of thinking; from weddings & love to whether Coke is better than Pepsi. They may clash, and they may constantly feud. But they gave their couples what they wanted (and essentially what they paid for) – a _picture perfect wedding_ , and a day filled with love and happiness with little to no stress.

 

* * *

 

  
Describing Jughead in three words; he would chose - talented, intelligent and creative.  
No ifs, buts or hesitations.  
But, If you then asked his friends, the answers are vastly different; cocky, sarcastic and hungry (all of the time).  
Jughead though wouldn’t argue with those descriptions; he’d likely just shrug and agree.

Jughead fell into photography. What originally started as a hobby; mainly to distract him for his not-to-perfect home life and upbringing, he would grab his camera (which had film in those days) and go down to the local river for hours and take photos. He wouldn’t take photos of anything in particular; sometimes the water, the flowers, even the sky if it were pretty enough.

  
But when his best friend, Archie saw some portraits that he had taken of Jellybean (his younger sister) - he had insisted on practicing with him and his fiancé.

“Jug, Ethel is harassing me to organise a bloody engagement shoot. I don’t even know what that is!” Archie had claimed, “but there’s like three photographers in Riverdale, and man, they’re pretty shit, I’m no expe-“

“I’ll do it, will you just stop talking?” Jughead had lost all patience (and beanie) by this stage, “I’ll do it, on one condition,”

Archie nodded, eagerly, “Whatever man, what do you need?”

“Don’t end up like my parents? Get married for the right reasons, _yeah_? Do you love Ethel?” Archie nodded, again, “good, love her forever, and with everything you have.”

“Of course, man.” Archie wasn’t quite sure where this sudden emotional and sentimental Jughead had come from but he shrugged and nodded.

“ _Promise me, Arch_ ,” Jughead wasn’t used to pleading or begging, but his best friend (in his opinion) was getting married too young, and he was afraid that it potentially wasn’t for the right reasons. Which in turn, led Jughead to believe he would the one left to pick up Archie’s broken heart.

  
Jughead did Archie and Ethel’s engagement shoot, amongst the trees and water of Sweetwater River during summer. The sun beaming down on the in-love couple; both in their own bubble.  
Jughead didn’t want to ask them to do much, like posing, so he attempted as natural as he could.  
They had chatted about him doing the photography for the wedding; but it was agreed they’d find someone from out of town, seeing as Jughead was the best man after all.

But it was just six months after the wedding; the one thing Jughead had asked of Archie not to happen - happened. it was three in the morning, and Archie was sobbing on the front steps of the trailer.

Ethel had left. Archie returned home from the construction site to a letter on the entry table in the hall —

 

 _I’m sorry, Archie._  
_I love you. But I don’t love you enough._  
_All the best,_  
_E._

 

Jughead’s jaw clenched, his left hand curling into a fist scrunching the letter, with his right arm wrapping around his best friend, as he openly wept on his shoulder.

  
That was three years ago.  
The whole experience left a bitter taste in his mouth; between his parents splitting up (his mum and younger sister leaving town) and his best friend having his heart broken; _marriage_? Jughead laughed in the face of marriage.  
Archie, however, had moved on. He and Ethel had divorced.  
And for the first time in a long time; Archie was happy. Jughead was happy for him.  
But to him; marriage and love were both still utter bullshit.

At least he could pretend he believed in both. It was his job after all. Taking photos of people in love. Taking photos of people getting married.  
He didn’t believe in either, but he was good at the creating the illusion of it, in fact, he wasn’t good. He was great. He was the best at capturing the love. He figures that’s why people booked his services up to two years in advance. Even with the increase in photographers popping up in Riverdale.  
Jughead after all, was the best in the biz.

  
So, when Jughead had opened the email from Veronica requesting a last minute brunch meeting; he hadn’t expected to see _her_.  
But seeing as Veronica was, well, highly strung, he shouldn’t have been surprised to see her there too.  
Naturally, he was just that little bit more excited about being Veronica and Sweet Pea’s photographer for their day. Especially now that _she_ was in the picture.

Upon entering the cafe, he caught the eye of Veronica and the glares from Betty.  
Raising his eyebrow, Veronica beckoned him to come over.  
Approaching the table, Betty reluctantly moved her belongings from the seat next to the floor between.

“Ladies,” He greeted in an almost gruff tone.

“Short Black, yes?” Veronica asked.

“Of course, thank you, Miss Lodge,” giving her a nod.

“Oh, please. We’re going to be working pretty closely over the next few months, Jughead. Call me Veronica,” placing her hands on the table in front, her eyes darted between the two people in front.

Jughead nodded is acknowledgment.

It was only a couple of minutes later (two minutes too long, Betty thought) the waitress reappeared with their drinks. Handing over one by one, but not before Betty noticed the faint blush that appeared on her face at the sight of Jughead’s hand slightly brushing hers as she handed him his coffee.

Betty winced at the slight jab in her chest, but quickly moved on as Veronica’s voice echoed in her ears.  
“Sorry, can you excuse me for a couple of moments?” Betty moved her chair and waited for the Veronica’s okay, as soon as she nodded and effectively shoo’d her away, Betty scurried to the bathroom.  
Shutting herself in to one of cubicles, she let her head fall against the back of the door with a soft thud.

She knew this feeling.  
This feeling was the feeling of everything going to shit.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not a date.  
> It's business.  
> (with booze and food.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE DELAY IN UPDATING.  
> here's chapter two.  
> I think, along with the rest of the fandom - Bughead, right now, is hard to write.  
> I'm so engrossed in the show; it's hard to imagine Bughead.
> 
> BUT.  
> I've pushed on...  
> and here we are.

_She knew this feeling.  
_ _This was the feeling of everything going to shit._

 

* * *

Once she had returned from her minor meltdown in the bathroom, both Veronica and Jughead were deep in conversation; Betty heard the words ‘engagement’ and ‘photo shoot’ as she was about to drink her (now lukewarm) coffee, setting it back down on the saucer in front, she cleared her throat, “I don’t mean to interrupt-“

“But, you’re going to, anyway,” Jughead huffed.

“Yes, _yes_ I am. Seeing as I am the Wedding Planner here, Jug-Head,” Betty retorted, “the wedding is in three months. Three months. I don’t think we have time for an engagement shoot.”

“Betty,” Jughead placed his pen down on the notepad, and slowly turned to face her, his knee gently touching her thigh, “I am the Photographer, and as the Photographer, I think we need an engagement shoot. I mean, Veronica,” turning to now face her, “Do you trust me to just take photos on the big day?”

But as Veronica went to answer, Jughead continued his argument, once again, turning to face Betty, “I like to get to know the couples that are trusting me to capture their big day, photograph their love, and their commitment. I need time for that. And, an engagement shoot is perfect.”

“What do you think, Betty?” Veronica’s voice cutting through her thoughts, “I mean, I trust Jughead. He hasn’t got the title he has for nothing, but, I mean. An engagement shoot could be a good thing.”

Betty’s eyes darted from the hope filling Veronica’s eyes to the cockiness of winning an argument in Jughead’s eyes, “Okay, fine,” conceding defeat, “It has to happen in the next two weeks, and absolutely no later.”

Veronica clapped her hands together and squealed in excitement, “Two weeks is doable with me, I’ll convince Pea. Jughead, is two weeks good?”

“Two weeks is good. It’s the colder months, so there’s not a lot of shoots happening,” reaching for his diary, he started flicking through pages and discussing potential dates with Veronica.

After a tentative date was agreed upon, pending Sweet Pea’s availability, Veronica announced that she had to leave for a business meeting. Bidding them both farewell, she rushed to the exit.

“I don’t know why you bother asking my opinion on things, Forsythe, when you obviously already have a plan in place,” Betty huffed.

“Oh, Elizabeth. You’re a little touchy this morning. Not enough sleep?” he snorted.

Betty rolled her eyes in frustration, “I’m not _touchy_ , I’m fine. I also had a _great_ sleep, if you must know,” She hadn’t sleep well at all, but he definitely didn’t need to know _that_ , “anyway, I have an appointment with Veronica’s florist.” Betty grabbed her laptop, notepad and pen, and haphazardly threw them in her handbag, “See you,” she muttered, but as she went to move, Betty hadn’t realised the strap of her handbag was caught under the chair leg.

With the ear-piercing screech of the chair being dragged along the floor, Jughead chuckled as he picked the chair up to remove the strap, “You good, Coops?” he offered, obviously seeing the bright red flush that was not only on her face, but now her chest.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, grabbing the offending strap and making for the door.

Once outside, and in the safety of her car, Betty slammed the steering wheel with open palms, _no Betty, no! This absolutely cannot happen. Not again, pull yourself together. Jesus Christ_. After taking a few minutes to calm down, she turned the car on and looked at the time. Realising she’d be pushing it to make the appointment on time, she prayed that the traffic would be kind and cooperate.

Thankfully, there was hardly any traffic and Betty made it to the florist with minutes to spare. The appointment went well, they discussed Veronica’s flowers; and much to Betty’s relief, they would be able to import her chosen flowers, even with such short notice. Of course, Veronica’s name played a big part on this as well – Lodge. Everyone knew that whatever a Lodge wanted, a Lodge got. Even it what she wanted out of season flowers – no one said no.

 

* * *

 

 

Returning home, Betty immediately made her way toward her coffee machine. The lukewarm coffee from the morning was nowhere near satisfying enough. After pressing buttons, retrieving the milk from the fridge and the sugar from the pantry, her phone buzzed indicating a new email.

Glancing at the notification, Betty’s stomach fell to the floor.  
_Jughead._

Deciding her coffee was far more important, she finished making it, and took a few mouthfuls before picking up her phone and swiping to open the new email message.

 

_Hey Betty,  
_ _I hope you’ve overcome your embarrassment for this morning, and I hope your steering wheel is okay with the abuse it copped afterward._

Betty gasped, and clenched her jaw.

_I’ve been thinking, with the short time frame we’re faced with in regards to the Veronica / Sweet Pea matrimony, it might be a good idea if we catch up for some dinner, and maybe some drinks to discuss our game plan.  
_ _I believe we both need to be prepared, and on the same page._

_I’m free tonight, or tomorrow night._

_Talk soon,  
_ _JJ._

The audacity. Seriously?

Betty groaned, he was a pompous ass. But, he was also right. They were on a tight schedule. Three months to plan an entire wedding wasn’t hard, but it certainly wasn’t easy either. Although, she would never admit it – Betty was thankful to be working with Jughead. He was talented (he also knew he was talented – his photos _were_ beautiful, it’s a shame his thoughts weren’t though), and he knew how to work under pressure.

Betty’s mind went back to the Bridezilla and Groomzilla of a couple they both worked with just a few months ago – it almost ended with Jughead walking out mid-wedding.

 

_“Jughead,” Betty ran after him, “You can’t leave!” she yelled._

_“Why the fuck not, Betty?” he argued, “she’s a bitch, and he’s an asshole. They deserve each other, but they do not deserve my photos. At all!”_

_“Jughead! Stop!” grabbing his arm, she pulled him around to face her, “it doesn’t matter if they’re awful people. Because, they are. She is a bitch, and he is an asshole. But, we’re both here to do a job, Jug,” the way his face softened at her words, made the butterflies already fluttering away in her stomach flutter even harder, “you’re only here for a couple of more hours. I’m here for the night, so count yourself lucky.”_

_Jughead took a deep inhale, and exhaled through his nose, “I saw the way they both spoke to you earlier, Betts,” her hand left his arm, she didn’t think anyone saw that interaction, “I’m not leaving you with them by yourself. I’m staying as long as you are.”_

 

It was that moment that Betty knew, she had feelings for Jughead, as much as she had tried to ignore them, she simply couldn’t. They hadn’t spoken or seen each other since that wedding. Betty had thought that maybe it was fleeting _thing_ , a heat of the moment _thing_ , a stupid crush _thing_. But having seen him walk into the café that morning; it wasn’t just a _thing_. It was much, much more than a _thing_.

Rereading his email, Betty sighed. Dinner and drinks? It made sense, of course. But, why not coffee and breakfast. Why did it seem romantic?    
_No, Betty, No. Don’t, it’s not romantic. It’s business, strictly business. Nothing more._

Clicking reply,

 

_Hi Jughead,_

_I’m fine, and my steering wheel isn’t complaining. But, it appreciates your concern for its wellbeing.  
_ _Dinner sounds doable. I’m free this evening. I’ll bring the information that I have._

_Let me know where and what time._

_Thanks,  
_ _BC._

 

Sinking further into her chair, the nerves were more obvious now. Staring at the computer screen in front, drinking more of her coffee, a new email appeared.  
He’s quick to reply, maybe he’s just at his computer and already has his emails open. He definitely wasn’t waiting for her reply. Maybe he was?  
No, definitely not. He’s looking for potential engagement shoot locations. That’s it.

Opening the new email, she noted the location and the time; her eyes moving to the clock in the corner of her laptop; Four hours. Plenty of time, but also not enough. Dammit.  
  


_It’s not a date, Elizabeth. Relax._   
  


Finishing her coffee, and responding to some new enquiries that had come through, Betty went about cleaning the apartment. As much as she could, she wasn’t messy, and she lived on her own. Cleaning the apartment simply meant, fluffing some cushions, flinging her throw blanket about and picking up some scrunched up pieces of paper off the floor.  
After she had unloaded the dishwasher, and reloaded it with some dishes, Betty looked at the time.  
She sighed, she had killed all of about thirty minutes.

_I need to go for a run_ , she muttered. Walking to her room and rummaging through her drawers, she pulled out her leggings, sports bra and a singlet. Pushing her runners on, Betty grabbed her earbuds, phone and keys.

Midway through her run, Betty decided she needed to make a phone call – she needed to hear some reassuring words; or at the very least, to tell her she’s looking into it too much and to just calm down.

“Hey, Kev,” she breathed into the phone, taking a spot on the park bench.

“Hey, Betty! You sound, puffed?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m out for a run. I needed some air. Look, are you free to chat?” Betty asked, playing with a bit of loose cotton on the hem of her singlet.

“Always for you, my love. What’s going on?” hearing the crunch of his weight on the leather couch.

“So, the wedding that’s coming up in a few months-“

“ _Oh_ ,” Kevin squeaked down the line, causing Betty to flinch, and pull an earbud out, “The Lodge wedding. Only the biggest wedding in Riverdale!”

“Yes, that wedding,” Betty sighed, “the photographer is Jughead Jones.”

“Ooooh,”

Not waiting for any further response, “we’re having dinner and drinks tonight to discuss our plans.”

“Hang on, _What_? Dinner and alcoholic drinks with Jughead Jones? Elizabeth Cooper!” once again, shrieking down the line, Betty pulled her earbud out.

“It’s not like _that_ ,” full well knowing Kevin would straight away think it is exactly like _that_.

“Oh, my sweet precious Betty,” hearing him stand from the couch, and padding through his apartment, the unmistakeable sound of wine pouring into a glass, “it’s exactly like _that_.”

After realising that Kevin was only fuelling the fire, Betty mentioned she wanted to finish her run, and ended the call before Kevin could say anything more to confuse her. Glancing at the time on her phone, she decided to head back to the apartment.

 

Rummaging through her wardrobe, Betty decided on a simple jeans and sweater combo, coupled with a scarf and boots. Betty loved winter, she loved beanies, boots, oversized jackets and scarves.  
Stepping out of the shower, she walked to her a room and changed in her chosen outfit for the night.

_It’s not a date.  
_ _It’s business._

Deciding to leave her hair down, with some soft waves, she went about applying her makeup. Natural, with some highlight and blush with mascara and pink gloss.  One final look in the mirror, and another look at the time. Making sure she had collected what was needed for the evening regarding Veronica and Sweet Pea’s wedding. Betty was good to go.

Finishing off her glass of wine, to calm her nerves, she grabbed her handbag and made her way out onto the street.

 

_It’s not a date.  
_ _It’s business._

 

Whilst in the Uber, Betty’s phone chimed with a new email notification.

 

_I realised, after I already opened this new email and typed your email address, it would’ve been easier to text you. But, I don’t actually have your number?_ _Anyway._

_I’m here._

 

Betty couldn’t help the giggle that escaped, he was right. Even after working together on as many weddings as they did – they had never exchanged numbers. Maybe for the reason that outside of weddings; they simply had no need to have each other’s number?  
Did he want it? Did Jughead _want_ her number?

 

_It’s not a date.  
_ _It’s business._

 

Pulling into the curb outside the bar, Betty thanked her Uber driver and climbed out. Making her way to the door, she pulled it open and smiled at the warmth. Giving her jacket and scarf to the cloak room attendant, Betty’s eyes searched the room for him.  
It didn’t take long.  
The unmistakable crown shaped beanie in the far (dark) corner, the fluttering butterflies in her stomach, once again, fluttering hard.

 

_It’s not a date.  
_ _It’s business._

 

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Hey, take a seat,” he motioned toward the opposite side of the booth, “I’ve ordered some water and garlic bread.”

“Perfect,” watching him as he looked over the menu, she couldn’t help the distinct change in the air between them, “I’ve brought all the information I’ve got regarding the wedding.”

“Betty. We’re about to have dinner. Let’s talk wedding shit afterward. At least after some beers, wine and vodka or some shit.”

 

_It’s not a date._  
_It’s purely business.  
_ _With booze and food._

 

“Of course, sure.” Feeling overwhelmed, Betty was thankful for the appearance of their waiter, with water and garlic bread, “Can I have a glass of Prosecco, please?”

“Anything for you, sir?” the waiter asked.

“Ah, just an Asahi, please.” handing the drinks menu back to the waiter.

He’s an ass, Betty. He’s full of himself. You’re chalk and cheese. He’s beer and you’re wine.   
He ordered tap water. You like sparkling. You love love. He hates love.

 

_It’s not a date.  
_ _It’s business._


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sort of got away from me.  
> (please don't hate me.)
> 
> feel free to direct all love / hate to my tumblr, please and thanks.
> 
> (@sweaters-and-crowns)

As the waiter removed their empty plate (of too heavy on the garlic, garlic bread) and their entrees, Betty’s eyes flicked to the half full (or empty) bottle of Asahi in front of Jughead and the second almost empty glass of Prosecco in front of her.  
_Slow down, Betty. Keep yourself in check._

“Sorry, I just need to duck off to the ladies,” she mumbled.

“Need to learn how to hold your booze, Coops,” he snickered.

Rolling her eyes, Betty hurried to the bathroom. Upon entering, she let out a soft groan at the line ahead of her. After waiting a few minutes for a free cubicle, her eyes landed on a stunning brunette who was leaving the cubicle she was about to enter. Betty closed the door behind her, and closed her eyes.  
_Drinking during a business meeting, Betty. Good job._

Wiping her hands on a paper towel (she hated the hand dryers) and making sure her makeup was still in place, Betty exited the bathroom but was halted in her tracks when she saw the same stunning brunette from the bathroom standing at _their_ booth.  
Moving out of view, her eyes fixated on what was unfolding before her. Betty knew  _this_ ; the strangers head tilting back in laughter, her hand on his bicep.  
Betty wanted to throw up. _This_ was flirting.

After a few more minutes, the woman was handing Jughead her phone, and he was giving her his.  
_Yep, she was going to throw up, surely.  
_ Swallowing the bile was threatening to rise, Betty took a deep breath and made her way into the dining area and back to the booth.

Clearing her throat, the woman’s eyes snapped to Betty and back to Jughead.

“ _Ah_ , Amy. This is Betty. Work colleagues, well, we both work within the wedding industry,” Jughead winked, whilst Betty let the words sink in.

_It definitely wasn’t a date.  
_ _It really was just business._

“Yeah, work colleagues. I’ll let you two finish whatever _this_ is,” Betty reached over and grabbed her purse, “I’m going to the bar.”

Ignoring the iron fist clenching her heart, Betty walked over to the bar, ordering a vodka and soda with a lime wedge. The bar tender placed the drink in front of her, whilst Betty rattled off their table number and turned around to see one final hair flick and wave from  _Amy_  to Jughead, watching her walk away.  
Downing her drink, and ordering another. Betty pointed to the booth and moved back to her seat, the bar tender acknowledging before turning away to make her drink.

“So,  _Amy_ , huh?” Betty questioned, shoving her purse back into her handbag.

“Yep, Amy. Seems nice.” Jughead’s eyes glued to his iPad.

“That’s nice.” The air once again shifting. Maybe it was just Betty, it’s like Jughead didn’t seem to have noticed; but she wasn’t surprised, at least not when _Amy_ was clearly on his mind.

Sometime after they had both finished their dinner, declining the dessert menu - Betty had finished her third vodka soda and lime (and was most definitely feeling _it_ ), whereas Jughead had only finished his second beer.  
The two spent the next hour laying out and going over their ‘game plan’ for Veronica and Sweet Pea’s wedding.  
Discussing dates for the engagement shoot, organising Veronica’s hair and makeup, and reviewing what they both knew of the families- from all reports; Sweet Pea and Veronica were from complete opposite sides of the tracks. Veronica; had a wealthy and privileged upbringing, and well, he was a former gang member, who dropped out of high school early on to earn money for his not-so privileged family.  
On paper, Veronica and Sweet Pea shouldn’t work – but, in some cases, _fuck what the paper says_.

“Anyway, I think that’s probably as good as we’re going to get tonight,” Jughead declared, grabbing his iPad and notepad, placing them in his messenger bag.  He took a final swig of beer, and slung the strap over his shoulder, “we good?” he quizzed.

“Oh, yeah sure, I think so,” put off by the somewhat abrupt end to the evening (with a bit of liquid courage, no doubt) Betty was soon fumbling out of the booth and grappling his arm, “I, ah-“  
_No Betty, don’t._  
“My apartment is just a few blocks from here. If you wanted to look over my notes from emails and meetings I’ve had with both Veronica and Sweet Pea?”  
_Oh, Betty. What are you doing?_  
“Seeing as we haven’t had a chance to meet them together?”

Jughead seemed slightly caught off guard with Betty’s invite to extend the night, noting her green eyes were slightly glassy (she did have a bit to drink), he shuffled his feet, and wanted to look at  _anything_  but the woman he was swiftly afraid of hurting, “I actually have an early start tomorrow, Betty and-“ looking at his watch and fussing with the strap of his messenger bag, “it’s already quite late.”

With her arm feeling like concrete, her hand fell, suddenly feeling ice cold, “Yeah, of course. I understand. Sure,” nodding her acceptance, her eyes snapping to the floor.  
_Don’t let him see the tears, or the hurt. Nothing, he must see nothing._

Jughead flinched at the change in Betty’s demeanour; maybe it was the drinks, but for most of the evening, she seemed very un-Betty-like. And now, she was reserved, quiet.  
_Hurt_.  
“We should probably organise to meet with both Veronica and Sweet Pea soon though.”

Betty agreed, as she retreated back into the booth, “I’ll email Veronica tomorrow, and we’ll organise a time.”

“Okay…” gesturing toward the front of the bar, “I’ll fix the bill on my way out. “

“No worries. See you soon, Jughead.” Betty responded staring into the drink before her.

Without another word, Jughead rushed to the till leaving her in the booth with her drink.

 

* * *

 

 

Betty woke the next morning to the familiar taste of _I mixed my drinks_ hangover; Prosecco and vodka.  
_Betty, what were you thinking?  
_ The truth was; she _wasn’t_ thinking, and if she was, it certainly wasn’t with her head.

Slowly, and painfully replaying the moment, he said no, over and over again, her heart sank. Squeezing her eyes shut (to both scald herself, and limit the brightness punishing her), she pushed the heels of her palms into eyes, Betty not only felt stupid, but she felt childish – like she was sixteen all over again, but intensified with the addition of adulthood.  
_It definitely wasn’t a date, at all. It really had just been business._  
  
Betty had accepted that her feelings for Jughead were there. She couldn’t tell how deep she actually was, though, she could tell it felt more than just a crush.  
There had been _something_ that briefly flashed across his face when she asked him to come back with her; was it shock? Maybe it had been sympathy?  
The fact of the matter was that he said no, he turned her down; he would of rather have gone home than spent any more time with her than what was necessary, (if the moment had come) he would have rather have fallen asleep on his own. And that, that was the part that Betty had to digest.  
But right now, she needed the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

It had been almost a week of radio silence from Jughead (no text messages -after finally exchanging numbers-, no emails and no phone calls) so, when Betty’s phone indicated a new email had come through – she was expecting either _yet_ another new enquiry, or an email from Veronica (who was on the cusp of Bridezilla). Padding her way over to her computer, she lifted the lid and waited for it to come to life (as much as she loved the readiness of her iPhone, Betty very much preferred reading and responding to emails via her computer).  
She opened a new internet window, and clicked through to her email inbox.  
It was from him.

 

 _Hey Betty,_  
_I hope you’ve pulled up okay last week. You did have a few drinks the other night. It was interesting seeing a relaxed version of the usual Betty I see._  
Anyway.  
I’ve emailed Veronica and we’ve organised to catch up tomorrow for ‘brunch’ at eleven, although, I was thinking we could catch up a little bit earlier at my place.

Jughead wanted to meet at _his_ place, _his_ apartment.  
Immediately reaching for a notepad, Betty wrote down his address.

_I would rather things not be awkward when we see Veronica and Sweet Pea; we’re professionals. I think we should probably talk about what happened. Clear the air, I suppose._

_See you then,  
_ _Jug._

 

Betty huffed, and shut the laptop lid.  
Turns out a week isn’t long enough to forget what had happened. _Clear the air,_ Betty sighed, _clear the air_. Even as an almost thirty-year-old, clearing the air sounded daunting.

Was this going to be a nice way of letting her down?  
Quickly shaking her head, Betty stood and made her way to the kitchen. She needed to go in feeling confident, she needed to take charge of the situation – no matter what, Betty wasn’t going to let Jughead Jones hurt her.  
This was a fight he wasn’t going to win. Not on her watch, anyway.

 

* * *

 

Staring up at the apartment building across the street, Betty was feeling uneasy, somewhat terrified and definitely _not_ in charge. Pacing back and forth on the footpath, she knew full well the three coffees she had already consumed this morning (thanks to a fitful sleep) wasn’t helping her cause.  
Glancing at her phone, it was nine fifty-five.  
Thrusting her hands deep into pockets, Betty made her way across the road. Inhaling deeply, Betty removed her hand from the depths of her pocket and gingerly buzzed the apartment number he had given her.

“Hello?” his voice sounded sleepy (even through the intercom).  
_Betty, stop it._

“Hey, Jughead. It’s Betty,” she responded.  
_Keep it together, for the love of all things pure and professional._

“Oh, shit. Is it that time already? Ah, yeah. I’ll buzz you up. I’m not even dressed yet,”  
_Dear God, is he nak-  
No. Don’t._

“I can come back, there’s a coffee-“

Before Betty could finish her sentence, the door beside her jolted open, giving her a shock. Passing the threshold, she climbed way too many stairs as she reached the landing on the seventh floor (once again, cursing the three coffees).  
Feeling a tad shaky, Betty crept her way to the front door of his apartment, before gently rapping on the door.

It was only a couple of minutes later, the door flung open to reveal a very tired looking Jughead; Messy hair (sans beanie), track pants and a singlet that exposed a little too much skin for Betty’s comfort (however, that didn’t stop her from filing it away).

“Sorry, I had a late night last night, and slept in,” moving to the side to allow Betty to enter, “Can I get you a coffee or something?”

“Water is fine, thanks,” Betty answered, slowly making her way further into his apartment.  
the apartment felt very bachelor-like. Pizza boxes on the coffee table, coke cans beside, gaming controllers on the couch, and shoes in various locations throughout the lounge room.  
And the smell, _well_ , it smelt very masculine.

“Here,” Jughead handed her a glass of water, “I’m just gunna go get changed, sit down, excuse the mess. Make yourself at home.”

Betty pulled a seat out from underneath the table, and placed the glass of water down. Whilst still scanning the room, an item beside one of the controllers on the couch got Betty’s attention.  
Slowly standing, blinkers on, she bee-lined for the object. As she got closer, her jaw clenched, and her fingers edged toward her palm.  
  
Hearing the sound of the bedroom door opening, Betty reached down and picked the offending item up before rushing back to the dining table and pushing it into her handbag.  
Entering the lounge room, Betty flashed Jughead her trademark smile.  
_Everything is fine. Peachy._

“it’s already ten fifteen, and the place we’re meeting Veronica and Sweet Pea at is at least a half an hour walk, we should probably make a move,” Betty stated, already leaning over to retrieve her belongings.

“Betty, we don’t have to be there at eleven, ya know?” Jughead retorted.

“I like to be punctual, Jughead.” Betty snapped back.

“Yeah, I’m well aware.” He countered.

Betty shrugged her shoulders, “Okay, did you ask me to come around so you could be an ass? Is it more fun when I’m sober?”  
_Oh, crap._

“Betty,” he breathed, “I don’t wanna argue with you. Okay? The next couple of months are going to be hectic for the both of us. Yeah? We have just over two months now to plan and execute probably the biggest wedding we’ve both done, _ever_.”

Betty felt her chest heaving.

“The last thing I wanna do is argue with you, or-“ his eyes glanced to the ground, “-have a night where the lines between professional and personal blur, because of one drunken proposition.”

“ _One_ _drunken_ _proposition_?”  
Betty could feel her jaw clench again, and her nostrils flare, the rage that was washing over her was nothing like she had experienced before (even with the asshole couple) “That’s what you actually thought that was? A drunken proposition? Are you _that_ fucking stupid, Jughead? 

“Wha-“ knitting his eyebrows to the middle, Jughead felt cemented to the ground.

“Wow, you really have no clue, do you?”

“Betty, I don-“

“You know what, forget it, Jughead. Coming here was a mistake. You should’ve just keep the radio silence, it probably would’ve been far less awkward. I’ll meet you at the café.” Betty barked as she exited his apartment.

Hurrying down the stairs, Betty’s legs felt like jelly, combined with the sobs threatening to escape – she needed air, and she needed it _fast_.  
Finally getting to the bottom of the stairs, Betty pushed through the heavy door and breathed in the fresh air. It felt cold as the air kissed her wet cheeks.

How could she have been so stupid?  
_One drunken proposition._

That’s what he thought? Betty felt sick. Once again, not helped by the coffees. Her stomach was now churning, her eyes fell onto a deli café across the street.  
Running across the road, she fumbled inside, catching the eye of one of the waitresses (whom immediately knew something was wrong) – pointing to the back of the café.

“Over there, hun. Are you okay?” the waitress asked.

Betty shook her head and made her way to the back, before pushing the door into the unisex toilet. With her legs giving out beneath her, Betty lunged for the toilet.  Although, after several deep breaths, the nauseating feeling finally lessened.  
Pulling her phone out of her bag, Betty opened her text messages,   **Hey Veronica, I’m sorry to do this – but something has come up. If you and Sweet Pea are available in the next couple of days? I would love to reschedule.**

 


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We need to talk,” noting the frustration in his tone, she knew he wasn’t going to give up that easily, “this morning didn’t exactly go according to plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all-- let me begin by apologising for the delay in getting this updated.  
> I got to a certain point where the flow just stopped. I opened the word doc everyday, and just nothing happened.  
> So, today, I'm at home-- and I forced myself to write; and hey, it didn't turn out half bad.  
> (it's a shortish chapter; but as I said, I struggled with it)
> 
> And lastly, thank you to each and every comment, kudos (reblogs on tumblr) -- it means the absolute world to me. I'm loving this little story.  
> You'll notice as well - I've updated the number of chapters....
> 
> SO HOLD ON, MY LOVES. xxx

After her meltdown post visit with Jughead in the unisex bathroom of the deli café earlier that morning, all Betty wanted to do was curl up on the couch and binge watch TV.  Processing the events over and over again, she knew her actions would have consequences. She fucked up. Curling up on the couch, safely under the comfort of her blanket, she knew Stranger Things would be the perfect distraction from the mess she had created for herself. She had two episodes left when she was brought back to reality by a series of bangs against her front door. She had been so absorbed in Netflix, Betty hadn’t realised it was after five o’clock. Toying with the idea that if she ignored the knocking long enough, the person on the other side would get the hint and leave.

But, five minutes passed and his voice rumbled from the other side.

“ _Betty_ ,” he groaned, “Don’t ignore me. I know you’re in there. You’re watching Stranger Things. I can hear it. Let me in.”

Wishing the couch beneath would swallow her whole in that very second, she grabbed the controller and paused her show. 

Skulking over the door, leaning her head against the wood, she asked him what he wanted.

“We need to talk,” noting the frustration in his tone, she knew he wasn’t going to give up that easily, “this morning didn’t exactly go according to plan.”

Betty scoffed, “No shit, Sherlock,” holding onto what little pride she had left in her hand, she refused to open the door, she refused to let him in (both literally _and_ figuratively), “I’m pretty sure you said everything that needed to be said, there’s not much else you could possibly say.”

“Elizabeth Cooper, that’s _bullshit_. Let me in.”

“And, why the fuck would I wanna do that? So, you can insult me within the four walls of my own home? I think not, Forsysthe. You can turn around and go right on home.” With hands on hips, Betty was hell-bent on standing her ground.

“For _fucks_ sake, Betty!”

“No, Jughead. You have said enough today. I’ll email Veronica, apologise profusely and I’ll arrange another meeting. Now, please go.”

After a few seconds it was quiet, almost too quiet. Resting her ear against the door, she heard some muttered whispers, something about _no it’s okay, we’re just talking_.

_Shit.  
It’s Mrs Smith from across the hall. She’s seventy, she definitely does NOT need to hear the vulgar words coming from him._

Reaching for the handle and pulling the door open, her eyes snapped to his cocky-ass smirk that was planted his face. Betty quickly realising, mouth agape, he hadn’t been talking to anyone.

_God dammit._

“You’re a little too predictable, Elizabeth,” he quirked an eyebrow, _he was good_ , “now, are you going to invite me in? You wouldn’t _actually_ want to draw the attention of your neighbours, would you?”

Betty was astonished, and slightly stunned by his actions, “ _please_ , come right on in, Forsythe.”

Manoeuvring his way into the living area, he dropped his messenger bag on the couch in front, and turned around to face her. _He was waiting_. For what though, Betty wasn’t sure.

“Can I get you a water? Maybe a coffee? I don’t have any soft drink though,” making no attempt to move toward the kitchen, Betty closed the front door, and pulled a seat out from the dining table and sat down.

“Quit the pleasantries, Betty. What in the hell was that that you pulled today?”  
_He was pissed. Betty realised she had never actually seen him mad; well, she had – but it had never been directed at her. Maybe she got under his skin._

“Not that it’s _any_ of _your_ business, but something come up.” Betty replied.  
_There’s not a chance he was going to believe that._

“That’s bullshit. That is total bullshit.” He challenged.

“Excuse me?”  
 _Okay, this is how it was going to go down. At least she was at home, and she could kick him out._

“You heard me. That is one hundred percent bullshit, Betty. The whole point of that meeting today was for the four of _us_ to meet! The _four_ of us! Not me, Veronica and Sweet Pea. You, me, Veronica and Sweet Pea. So, _imagine_ my surprise when I turn up and Veronica informs me that you’re not going to be there.”

“As I said-“

“No, you have said plenty now, Betty Cooper. It’s _your_ turn to listen. _Firstly_ , that _little_ stunt of yours today almost cost not only this gig for _me_ , but for _you_ as well. Sweet Pea was pissed, and Veronica, _well_. You’re lucky I’m good with words. I’d suggest keeping clear from her over the next few days.”

Removing his beanie, and tugging at _that_ curl, Betty couldn’t move; she felt like a child being reprimanded for drawing on a wall.

“ _Secondly_ , if we’re going to spend the night together, Betty. I want us to _both_ be sober. I would _like_ to remember it. And I want _you_ to remember it. I don’t want it to be some drunken mistake, because believe it or not, Betty. I actually _have_ feelings and even more shockingly I _have_ a heart. You _and_ me. This right here,” pointing his finger to her, and back to himself,  “I’m not stupid. You challenge me like no other woman does. You argue with me. You prefer Pepsi over Coke, for Christ sake. You wholeheartedly believe there is someone out there for everyone. You see the good and the calm in the most crazy and awful of people. And, you know what, I admire that.”

Betty was blinking furiously by this stage, attempting to keep her tears at bay. This is not how she expected this conversation to go.

“ _Jug_ ,” she whispered.

“No, I’m _not_ done. We’ve worked together on so many occasions. I’ve lost count, to be honest-“

“Ten. Seven excluding the elopements.”

“Over the course of three years. And you know what, Betty Cooper, you’re the _only_ woman that makes me this fucking angry! You’re only one that gets _under_ my skin. And you wanna know something funny? It’s actually a really good story.”

Betty didn't dare respond.

“You’re the only god damn woman I think about.” Clenching his jaw, he let out a strangled groan, “for fucks sake, Betty. Can you not see? There is no-one else.”

“But, _Amy_ ,”  she whispered under her breath.

“ _Amy_? The girl from the bar? What about her?” the name stopping him in his tracks, confusion evident on his face.

“You swapped numbers, and she left her-“ Betty stopped herself, but apparently not soon enough.

“Left her, _what_?” he was now standing, brows furrowed in the centre.

Betty stiffened, she was in too deep now, she had to come clean. Slowly standing, and walking to her room, she re-emerged holding a black lacy bra, “ _this_ was on your couch.”

Jughead’s eyes darted between the lacy black bra dangling from Betty’s shaky hand and her face, “And you _took_ it?”

“I panicked. I was looking at it, I heard your door open so I swiped it and threw it in my bag.”

Jughead cackled.  Grabbing the bra and shoving it into the messenger bag, he reached for Betty’s arm and pulled her to sit down on the couch, “that’s _not_ Amy’s.”

Bewilderment washed over her face. Betty was puzzled.  
_Whose bra was it?_

“is it another-”  
Betty didn’t know why she was asking, and truth be told-- she actually didn’t want to know.

“It’s my sister’s, it’s Jellybean’s. She’s been here for the last few days, she had a pretty heated argument with her girlfriend, so she crashed at mine.”

_Well, that definitely explained the radio silence._

“We were playing Mario kart last night, it got a little _competitive_ , and JB decided her bra was _too_ constricting, or some shit. So, she took it off. Don’t get me wrong, it was fucking weird. But, Mario Kart and the Jones’s? It’s serious business. She left in a hurry this morning. I heard her on the phone to her girlfriend, and she left within fifteen minutes. She must’ve left it behind.” 

Betty blinked slowly, processing the tsunami of information Jughead had thrown at her. She knows that she has to say something, _anything_ \--- but she was rendered speechless.

“Look,” Jughead broke the heavy silence, “I’m going to give you some space,” slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder, and placing the beanie back to its rightful place atop his raven locks, “but, tomorrow night, we’re going out to dinner. An actual proper dinner. No wedding talk, no mention of Sweet Pea, Veronica, Celebrants, Hair & Makeup or Photo Locations. Just us. Yeah?”

Betty jerked her head to meet his gaze, “what?” she faltered.

“Seven o’clock. Be ready. I’ll swing past to pick you up,” gliding back to the front door, “I’ll see you then, Betty.”

_It’s a date._   
_An actual date._

Flopping backwards onto the couch, eyes squeezed shut, and her stomach buzzing away with a mix of nerves and excitement.

_Maybe, It wasn’t just business._

 


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me first start by saying....  
> I am absolutely BLOWN AWAY with the response this fic is receiving; this is by far my favourite story so far... I adore writing this (and although, the last couple of chapters I've struggled with, this one being the biggest hurdle) and the encouragement I've been receiving through Tumblr and the comments that STILL come through-- it makes me want to cry, I'm not even kidding.
> 
> There's only a couple of more chapters to go.. BUT HOLD ON.

Betty was in all sorts, and for someone that organised others for a living, this was a whole new _thing_ for her to be experiencing; as she meandered around the apartment trying to busy herself, Betty was on the cusp of cancelling her date for the evening.

 _Hey Jughead, got a bit of food poisoning, we’ll have to reschedule._  
_Oh, Hey Jughead, Veronica has had a bridal emergency of sorts, we’ll have to postpone._  
_Hi Jughead, I’ve had a surprise visitor— can we reschedule?  
_ _Hey Jughead, Mrs Smith from down the hall, yeah, her cat ran off with her dentures. Can we postpone?_

It had all started from running out of conditioner, her hairdryer dying, dropping a large blob of toothpaste right in the middle of her dress and finally, the icing on the cake— she ran out of mascara. Just when she was ready to throw in the metaphorical towel, her phone pinged with a new message:

_Be there in ten._

Betty let out a frustrated cry, looking down at her jeans and sweater combo— Betty ‘ _Sweet, Safe and Reliable’_ Cooper. Not the Cooper she had been aiming to channel at all. Not even in the slightest. Running her fingers through her now frizzy hair, she pulled the hair tie of her wrist and threw her hair up in a messy bun.  After a few more minutes for self-depreciation; a soft thud on her front door drew her back to reality, and reminded her that she did in fact have an expected visitor. After darting her eyes to the clock on the wall— the visitor would be none other than her date for the evening.

Betty slowly padded her way to the door, thinking back to all of the possible and believable scenarios she thought of to cancel— and decided it would _definitely_ be the cat running away with the dentures.

But, as she opened the door, Betty’s mouth fell to her feet. He looked _gorgeous_ , he had put effort in: very different to the effort he would put in for a wedding, anyways.

_(one thing that did stand out— he was sans beanie.)_

Betty gave herself a silent scalding as she thought about running her hands through his wild raven hair, and just having the date in her bedroom (it’s been a while). She quickly moved to the side to allow him to enter.

“You look nice, Jug,” she blurted.

“And, so do -“

“I _don’t_. I look the shit.” She conceded

The look he returned had her feeling like she had kicked a cat, left the crust on a pizza or worse _yet_ , took the pineapple _off_ the pizza, “what? No, you don’t,” he countered.

“I’ve had the evening from Hell, Jug,” Arms crossed across her chest, eyebrows knitted to the centre, “if you wanna reschedule, I wouldn’t be offended....” Betty sputtered, hoping he wouldn’t (but would).

“And why would I wanna do _that_?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow, “Just because you _think_ you look like shit, which let me _assure_ you,” the corner of his mouth creeping upward, as he moved closer toward her, “ _you do not_ ,” placing his finger firmly underneath her chin, lifting her face upward, “I would still happily _and_ eagerly remove all of what it is that you’re wearing, after dinner and if you invited me back and wanted to the continue the date, of course.”

Betty realised at this point, not only was _she_ nervous, but so was _he_. Jughead was _babbling_. And, in all of the years that Betty had known Jughead.  
He doesn’t _babble_.

Feeling her heart rate rise, and an unfamiliar warmth in the pit of her stomach, Betty quickly uttered something under her breath about getting her handbag. Rushing into her bedroom, Betty’s mind immediately went to her choice of underwear for the evening— _granny panties and a comfortable bra_ — simply wouldn’t do. On the _off chance_ , she doesn’t make a total fool of herself this evening, she needed _something_ sexy. 

Pulling open her drawers, she retrieved a little something special she bought herself a few months ago, calling out to Jughead, “I’ll be a few minutes!”, Betty stepped out of her jeans, shoved her comfy undies down her legs, and slipped into her more _date-going-well-appropriate_ underwear, and did the same with her bra.

Applying another layer of gloss, and a little more blush to try and make up for her lack of mascara, Betty emerged back into the lounge room, nodding toward the front door. 

 

* * *

 

“You’re taking me to _Pop’s_?” Betty questioned, whilst raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow, the slight hint of disapproval evident in her voice, “Jug, I come _here_ all the time.”

“Yes, Betty. But have you been _here_ with _me_?” He remarks.

“Well, No.”

“Have you been here on a date?”

“Ah, no, I guess not. Because, who brings someone to Pop’s for a _date_?” In Betty’s mind, Pop’s is for a hangover greasy breakfast, with a strong black coffee, or her retreat after a wedding. It’s not somewhere she’d associate with a romantic date.

“Betty Cooper,” shaking his head, “so, it's perfectly safe to say then, that this is your first time at Pop’s for a date, and it just so happens to be with _yours_ _truly_?” This time, turning around to face her, “Hrmmm?" 

Betty sighed, “well, yes. But-” 

“Absolutely no ‘If’s or But’s’, Betty. We’re here to have a good time, and I think it’s _about_ time you saw the real Jughead Jones,” Linking his fingers through hers, they walk up the steps and enter Pop’s for their first official date.

 

* * *

 

After the waitress brought over their meals and milkshakes—they fell into easy conversation, like they did _this_ on a regular basis. Betty talked about her upbringing, the less than ideal relationship between her parents and the inevitable breakdown of their marriage. She talked about how organising the wedding of her mother’s second marriage fuelled the simmering fire beneath the surface—“I enjoy organisation.”  
_(unless it had to do with a date with Jughead Jones, of course)_

“How can you believe in it, when your parents couldn’t make it work?” he asked, with a mouthful of chilli fries.

“Believe in marriage?”

He nodded.

“Fair question,” Betty slinked further into the red plastic booth, “I like to see it as my mum had to go through the frogs first to get her Prince Charming.”

“You’re making fairy tale references?” Jughead’s face contorted, “Life isn’t a fairy tale, Betty.”

“No, I know. It’s not. But fairy tales aren’t perfect, and either is life,” with pursed lips, Betty leant forward, “I mean, look at _Frozen_ for example, Anna thought she found the love of her life in Hans, heck, she said yes to his marriage proposal after five minutes even,” Jughead couldn’t help the butterflies in his stomach at the argument she was putting forward (she was cute when she was passionate), even if it was referencing Frozen, “But, he was a dick. She met Kristoff, out of nowhere and _huzzah_. Love!”

“Love is overrated.” He countered.

Betty sighed, taking a sip of her second milkshake, she knew this would be the perfect chance, “why are you so against it?”

Jughead leant back, chuckling to himself, “How long is a piece of string, Elizabeth? How many hours do you have?”

“All the time in the world, Forsythe.”

As fate would have it, as the tension was rising, the waitress returned to take their empty plates away, offering the dessert menu and asking if they wanted more drinks.  
  
(They both ordered strong coffees.)

After hearing about his best friend’s failed marriage, his own parents failed relationship—Jughead’s attitude toward marriage and love made a little more sense, “How’s Archie doing now?” Betty prompted, whilst drinking the last of her coffee.

Jughead placed his coffee on the saucer in front, “He’s doing really well. He’s happy, which is the main thing,” he nodded, “I told him, you know, I warned him. Getting married so young, it was _never_ going to work.”

“You don’t know that, Jug,” she defended, “it sounds like he _did_ love her, and when you love someone –“

“You jump at any chance to be with them,” he murmured, “I want to take you somewhere.”

As Betty reached for her purse, he swatted at her hand, “put it away,” He climbed out of the booth and made his way over to the counter.

 

* * *

 

“The old drive-in?” Betty quizzed.

“Yep, the old drive-in,” he answered, “I spent a lot of time here as a kid.” Reaching for Betty’s hand, pulling her through the car park and toward the old and forgotten about building.

“Jug, are we even allowed to be here?” she couldn’t help but feel they were like trespassing on private property.

“I own the land, so there’s not a lot they can do.”

“ _Wait_ ,” stopping in her tracks, and pulling Jughead toward her, “You own _this_ land?”

“Sure do,” he grinned, as he nodded toward the building, “bought it a couple of years ago. I have plans for it, I just need to keep doing what I’m doing and it’ll eventually come to life.” 

Watching him retrieve keys from his pocket, the click of the lock unlocking, Jughead pushed the door open and reached for her hand, “It may look old and dusty, but to me, this place is special.”

Reaching the top of the stairs, Jughead flicked a light on. Betty’s eyes adjusting to the light in the projector room, and drawn to the mattress on one side of the floor and a small bookcase that seemed to home a lot of books, “Juggie, does someone _live_ here?”

“Someone _used_ to live here, yeah.” Slowly making his way over to the projector in the middle of the room.

It felt like a jigsaw puzzle; Betty slowly piecing the pieces together, “was it you?” she gently prompted. It was a simple nod, his response, but it was enough to feel her heart shatter into a million pieces.

“When the land came up for sale, it’s like I _had_ to have it,” Betty watched as he paced the room, fingers running down the canisters of film, “I like to come here to remind myself of where I am now, and where I’ve come from. And, this land reminds me of exactly that.”

With her feet moving her forward, Betty gripped his arm and moved him around to face her, as her eyes flicked across his face, his expression blank, she stood on her tippy toes and pressed her lips to his.

“Betts,” he murmured, his hands finding purchase on her waist, pulling her flush against him, groaning at her fingers moving through his hair.

As she pulled away slowly, already missing the feel of his slightly chapped lips on hers, she pressed her forehead to his, “Juggie, would it to be too soon to say I may have found my Prince?”

“Not at all, Princess, not at all,” smiling, as once again, her fingers tangled in his hair, and soft moans left her lips as he slowly moved her backward to the makeshift bed in the corner of his old bedroom.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s gripping her waist just that little bit tighter, reassuring himself, that this is real—what is happening is definitely real, and not a dream or a figment of his overactive imagination.  
> Betty Cooper is moaning his name against his lips. And, her hands have very much moved from his scalp to the hem of his jumper, and she is definitely hinting at him to remove it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah... I'm posting this a little earlier than expected, but I kind of had a creative flow hit...  
> Second last chapter.. Enjoy!
> 
> (and once again, thank you so so much for the encouraging words and comments! I'm blown away!)
> 
> ~ also, there's two POV's here. First being Jughead (for the most part) and Betty towards the end.

**Three years earlier.**

 

_He was late._  
_Not ‘Jughead’ late, just late._  
_His apartment block had lost power the night before, after he had fallen asleep; so, his phone hadn’t charged, which meant, he had no alarms._ _The only way he had any idea of what the actual time was— the battery-operated clock on the wall of the kitchen._  
_He had fifteen minutes. No time for coffee.  
_ _Jughead let out an overly exasperated puff, as he slipped his shoes on and shoved his trademark beanie over his bed hair._

_He could already feel the wrath of both Toni and her fiancé, Cheryl. These were two women you didn’t want to mess with._

_Toni was an old friend from the trailer park. Jughead would always chuckle at the memory of FP trying to set them up, “she’s perfect for you, boy,” he would casually slip into conversation over Chinese takeaway._  
_And she kinda was. She was almost the female version of Jughead. Broken home life, questionable upbringings, the child of gang member parents, and forever chasing the dream of being something other than a Serpent.  
_ _So, when Jughead finally acted on his father’s wishes— he took Toni out on a date. Only to have Toni mention, “I’m more into girls.”_

_After the Serpents crumbled; between members either dying, going to jail or breaking free— Toni left Riverdale.  
_ _She returned a couple of years later with a new friend in tow._

_Inhaling a deep breath, he pulled open the door to the cafe, immediately aching as the aromas of fresh coffee assaulted his senses._

_Catching Toni’s widened eyes, she rushed over, “you’re late,” she murmured, “half an hour, Jug! I gave Cheryl my word - “  
_ _“I know, I know. The apartment lost power, I was up late editing, my alarms - “_

_Toni’s hand shot up, “get your damn coffee and we’ll talk about this later, but until then, we have plans to make and someone I want you to meet.”_

_He gave a quick nod, his eyes following Toni (and her still pink hair) to the table, where Cheryl (with her cherry red hair) sat alongside a woman with what could only be described as sunshine blonde hair. Jughead ordered his double espresso and bottle of mineral water, and made his way over to the table._

_Gingerly pulling the spare chair out, he smiled at Toni (whilst attempting to make some sort of wordless apology to the woman beside her), as she commenced the introductions, “Elizabeth Cooper, I’d love you to meet Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third, our wedding photographer and a dear friend from many, many moons ago,” Betty pushed her hand forward, “and Forsythe, meet our wedding planner,” as his hand met hers, the electricity that shot through his body was startling and unexpected._

_“Please, call me Betty. I only get called Elizabeth when I’m trouble,” pulling her hand away, and moving a stray piece of blonde hair behind her hair, she gave a shy smile._

_Did she feel it too?_

_“Betty, it’s a pleasure to meet you. And, call me Jughead,” he was expecting some remark about his preferred name, but all he got in return looked to be a slight pink flush across her face._

_He was learning fast; always expect the unexpected with Elizabeth ‘Betty’ Cooper._

 

 

* * *

 

 

And tonight, _right now_ , was absolutely no exception.  
The way her fingers raked through his hair, her nails on his scalp and the way her soft moans mingled with his own. There was nowhere else in the world he wanted to be, no one else he wanted to be with. Jughead Jones was irrevocably in love with Betty Cooper.  
He wants to tell her, but he knows that pulling away would mean his lips leaving hers—and there’s not a chance he’s letting that happen.

He’s gripping her waist just that little bit tighter, reassuring himself, that _this is real_ —what is happening is definitely real, and not a dream or a figment of his overactive imagination.  
Betty Cooper _is_ moaning _his_ name against _his_ lips. And, her hands have very much moved from his scalp to the hem of his jumper, and she is definitely hinting at him to remove it.

“ _Please_ ,” she whispers, gripping the edges, asking him to move his arms up.

(Jughead is not usually one to follow instructions but when _she’s_ involved and the removal of clothes is in the mix, he’s _not_ one to say no)

Without needing to be asked twice, Jughead lifts his arms up and within seconds, his jumper is over his head and thrown across the room. And, his eyes are rolling to the back of his head as he feels her fingernails trail down his chest and to his stomach, lingering at the top of his jeans, before slowly moving to the buckle of his belt.

  
“You know, Juggie,” her voice barely a whisper, “I’ve thought about this moment for so long,” a small giggle escaping, still playing with the buckle of his belt, “sometimes late at night,” the sound of the buckle coming apart, “after we’ve finished a wedding, I’m just _so_ tired,” the pop of the jeans button sounding like a gunshot, “but, then you pop into my head,” the unmistakable sound of zip catching teeth, Jughead can’t breathe, “and after a few blissful moments, sleep comes easy.”

Jughead groans at the thought of Betty pleasuring herself, thinking about him. Touching below her chin, he moves her head up, her green eyes blown wide—once again, his breath caught in his throat. He wants to say something, _anything_ , but when Betty tugs at her bottom lip, his hands are on either side of her face, and pulling her in.

She sighs against his mouth, whilst pushing his jeans down, but suddenly pulls away as he springs to life from behind his jeans, “Juggie,” she pants, eyes moving from his cock, up his torso and finally to his eyes, “is this for me?” tracing her finger up his length.

_And that’s all it takes._

He swallows hard, as his hands reach behind her and picks her up, carrying her to the makeshift bed, “you’re a tease, Elizabeth,” he exhales against her exposed neck, gripping her thighs. 

“You make it too easy, Forsythe,” she mewls, tightening her legs around his waist, moving her head to the side as Jughead continues his assault on her neck with open mouthed kisses, but as she’s about to continue teasing him, he finds that one stop below her ear that has everything around her turning hazy, “oh, _fuck_!” she cries.

 

Everything after that is in slow motion.  
She’s murmuring _something_ —his name? The one thing he can definitely hear is her soft cries of pleasure, as he finds that spot between her legs. It’s hitched, uneven and definitely not steady.  His hand is splayed across her stomach, _Juggie_ , it’s whispered, but he hears it. But, only just.

He pulls away, reluctantly, “ _Betts_ ,” he feels her palms on the side of his face, _she wants to stop_ , is the thought that’s rushing through his mind, “we can stop,” as soon as the words have dropped, he can them floating before him, _please don’t_ , he thinks.

She’s just as nervous as he is, “I want _you_ , all of you,” each word laced with lust and desire, the words music to his ears— words he never thought he’d hear.  
He feels dizzy, and drunk. And it’s all Betty Cooper, it’s all _her._  

He’s pulling himself up, and she’s whining at the taste of herself against her tongue, “is that what I taste like?” she hums, so innocently.  
Jughead nods, “Better than I ever could have imagined,” her murmurs as his tongue massages hers.

“Juggie, can you make love to me now?” linking her hands behind his neck, and wrapping her legs around his waist.

As the lights slightly flicker across the car park of the old drive-in, Betty’s cries of pleasure fill the projector room, and Jughead’s whispered declarations of love fill Betty’s ears—Jughead realises that he has most definitely found his own Princess.

 

* * *

 

With the nuptials of Veronica and Sweet Pea looming closely, Betty is learning firsthand that a Groomzilla has nothing on a Bridezilla.

“Ohmygod, Kev,” Betty groans down the phone, “I thought Veronica was bad, but Sweet Pea!”

Kevin chuckles, “it’s always the ones you least expect.”

Taking a sip of wine, Betty puts her glass on the coffee table and flops down on the couch, “he is actually unbelievable, Kev. Like, it started with the cake, and then the decorations,” she huffed in frustration, “it was the wrong shade of lavender!”

“Look, it’s not fun right now, but think of the end result, B. Money, and think of the word that Veronica can spread of your amazing services,” Kevin, always the voice of reason, “And, well, if anything, it helped with you and _Juggie…_.”

Betty flushed at the mention, “I should never have let that nickname slip, but, yes,” taking another sip of wine, “you’re right.”

“How are things with lover boy?” he prodded.

“Things are,” her mind thinking back to two nights ago, on the very couch, straddling his lap, as he hit _that_ spot that had her seeing instant stars, “ - good.”

Kevin hummed in response, “so, have you guys talked about, well, _you know_?”

She rolled her eyes, “We’ve been dating for like, five minutes, Kev. Marriage is hardly top of the list of conversations to have right now.”

“No, it’s not, but, you two have already dropped the L word, so – “

“I know,” Betty knew, but she also knew, that the relationship was fresh and unchartered waters, “we’ll talk about it, eventually, just not right now.”

“ _Oh_! My date is here, Betts! I’ll text you later, or tomorrow morning. If he plays his cards right! Toodles.” And with the click, Betty giggles and finishes her glass of wine, before opening her inbox to yet another email from Sweet Pea.

 

After she’s finished the bottle of wine (half a bottle, the other half was consumed a couple of nights ago), Betty slides into bed and reaches for her phone.

**23:14  
** _How am I meant to cope for the next two months?_

**23:18  
** _Why are you still awake? It’s late!_

**23:20  
** _I could ask you the same thing? I was emailing Sweet Pea._

**23:21  
** _Ah, yes. He emailed me too. I was editing. Their engagement photos actually._

**23:24  
** _If it wasn’t so late, I’d invite you over…. ;)_

**23:25  
** _Betty Cooper, you minx. I only saw you a couple of days ago, I thought that may have sufficed._

**23:26  
** _Hrmmmm… What can I say, I’ve had a taste…_

**23:28  
** _I’ll be there in twenty._

Betty giggled as she climbed out of bed and rummaged through her drawers, ignoring Kevin’s words lingering from earlier—she knew they needed to talk, but right now.. Betty wanted to enjoy what her and Jughead had, and what they were sharing.

_That_ conversation can wait.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEEP BREATH. Inhale, exhale.  
> First things first.. Let me start by apologising for the length of time it's taken me to update... which leads me to my second point...  
> This chapter has KICKED MY ASS TO THE MOON AND BACK. (and tbh, I'm still not 100% happy with it..)  
> Honestly. I've been working on this for almost three weeks now. I've lost count of the amount of times I've rewritten it; changed paragraphs, plots.. EVERYTHING.   
> And, there's a part of me that possibly procrastinated with completing it... Purely, because I'm really sad about finishing it? But... writing the last few paragraphs-- It dawned on me, that it was time.  
> I've been constantly blown away by the response that this fic has received. It has been THE most fun to write. It's definitely my favourite. 
> 
> Okay, so here we go.  
> Thank you again to everyone for their continued support... It means the world to me. xx

When the incessant blaring of her alarm should’ve pulled her from slumber, it didn’t— it was the feel of him, and his mouth. He was peppering kisses along her jaw, up to her ear, and lastly sucking gently on the soft skin of her - _now waiting_ \- exposed neck. Letting out a disgruntled groan, Betty reached for her phone and squinted as the harsh light burned her eyes.

**4:17AM.**

“Sorry for my alarm waking you,” she managed to get out as she felt him slipping the spaghetti strap of her singlet down her shoulders, “just need to be prepared for - “  The words that she was about to speak disappeared, and were soon replaced with soft whispers of encouragement as soon as she felt his tongue trail from the skin of her neck down to the valley between her breasts.

“ _Hmmmm_?” Jughead pressed, before flicking his tongue over her nipple, “prepared?” He asked, as his free hand moved to her other breast, palming it ever so slightly.

Betty hummed her approval as he slowly moved over her and positioned himself between her already open legs.

(Truth be told, Betty _knew_ this would happen. It had been eight days since they last saw each other, and even then, it had been for professional reasons— but it had really been ten days since they’d laid their hands on each other’s skin. She planned for Jughead to stay the night before the wedding, she planned – _and wanted_ \- this to happen, after all, her job involves planning.)

Thankfully Betty didn’t _actually_ have to get out of bed until at least five o’clock. So, with just over forty minutes to spare, Betty sunk into the mattress.

 

* * *

 

 

As she pulled into the carpark of the venue, Betty looked at the time on the dash of her car, it had just gone eight o’clock. She flipped down the visor, and had one last look in the small mirror above, she smiled, took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. Today was going to be a day of both comfort and professionalism (plus, it was unusually chilly). Betty had opted for skinny black jeans, a beige long-sleeved sweater with a simple floral scarf.

(The scarf was to cover the slight tinge of purple that Jughead had ever so kindly marked her with that morning.

“Juggie, _don’t_!” Betty whined, “not today!”

“It’s only small.” He had joked, smirking against her skin. “Need the world to know you’re mine.”

“ _Really_?” She huffed, as his tongue soothed the already appearing bruise.

“I know what men are like at weddings, Betty.” He replied, as his fingers hooked into her panties and pulled them down her legs.

He wasn’t wrong. Betty knew exactly what men were like at weddings.)

Gathering her things, she walked up to the hotel, and pulled open the door. She flashed the receptionist a smile, and nodded toward the ballroom. Betty was already familiar with most of the staff at the hotel that Sweet Pea and Veronica had chosen as their wedding venue.  
 _Especially_ in the last two weeks; Betty had lost count of the trips she had made here. And coupled with the numerous breakdowns that Veronica had, and the late night emails from Sweet Pea— Betty was just about ready for this wedding to be over and done with.

Pushing open the heavy doors to the extravagant ballroom, Betty felt the air leave her lungs in an instant.  
Everything was beautiful. (Not that she had expected it not to be.)  
But it’s one thing to have ideas, and something entirely different seeing it transformed into real life.

Making her way through the room, Betty’s eyes scanned the floral centrepieces, surrounded with tea light candles, the framed menus, the place cards and the soy candles, and take-home sweets for the guests. But, when her eyes caught sight of the fairy lights cascading down the ceiling to floor curtains, Betty couldn’t help the child-like giggle that escaped.  
The entire room was a mixture of a magic, romance and had an almost fairy-tale like feel to it. It all felt _very_ Veronica-esque.

 

Needing to ensure that everything was running according to plan, and in line with the strict and to-the-minute schedule— Betty screeched with excitement when the cake arrived-- Four tiers, fresh flowers, chocolate drips, with beige buttercream icing, and bits of scattered gold foil.

Taking a step back, Betty took some deep breaths, and glanced at her watch. The guests were due to start arriving at the venue in just under two hours; here for the most talked about wedding in Riverdale. The reception area looked perfect, and the ceremony space felt warm and romantic; considering the weather.

She pulled out her phone and sent a quick message to Jughead, asking how he was going. Betty wasn’t expecting a reply.  He would be in full “wedding photographer” mode.  
So, when her phone chimed with a new message, from him, letting her know it was going well and he missed her, her stomach was a flutter.

 

* * *

 

As Veronica and Sweet Pea exchanged vows, amongst their family and friends, Betty stood toward the back, keeping track of the time, and (discreetly and occasionally) watching Jughead move around. The ceremony lasted for a little over forty minutes, and went off without a hitch— including happy tears, lots of laughter, and a kiss that would only just be considered appropriate. Despite the forecast, the weather held off long enough for Jughead to get some shots of the newlyweds, their bridal party, and both families.

There was only a couple of hours left, and with most of the formalities done and dusted, the party was in full swing. Betty had lost count of how many times Veronica and Sweet Pea had pulled her aside to thank her for _everything_ , to which she would just shake her head and shrug them off. As she stood off to the side of the ballroom, soaking everything in— it was the realisation that she had helped with _this_ , with _all_ of _this_.   
The sense of pride that washed over her was slightly overwhelming. Squeezing her eyes shut, Betty took a few deep breaths.  Opening them after a few moments, she caught sight of Jughead moving around the room, camera in hand, doing what he does _best_.

Watching Jughead in his element, watching him take charge, watching him be a ninja in a room full of people. Betty’s heart swelled.  Her glance shifted to the happy couple dancing in the middle of the room. In their own world of bliss.  
Betty realised— _this_ is what she wants. She wants _this_ , with _him_ … yet _he_ doesn’t.

Letting out a slow and slightly pained sigh, Betty gives herself a shake and decides she needs air. Passing the bar on her way out, she grabbed a glass of coke and made her way outside for some fresh air.  A few minutes pass, followed by more minutes, until she realises she’s lost track of how long she’d been outside for.  
Betty glanced at her watch, an expletive fell from her lips and she stumbled off the wall and rushed back inside, but not before collecting Jughead on the way in.

“Whoa, slow down, Betts! Where’s the fire?” He asks, gripping her shoulders.

“Oh, I was outside and lost track of time.” She admits, “they’re going to be doing the bouquet toss soon, so I need to make sure everything is ready for them to say their goodbyes,” Betty stood on her tippy toes and planted a kiss on the corner of his lips, “not long left, it’s been a big day, and I absolutely cannot wait to climb into bed.” 

“Me too,” he replies, brushing his lips to her temple.

“If you want, just head to my place after, and I’ll meet you there.” She offers.

“Don’t be silly, Betts, I’ll stay here with you.”

 

* * *

 

After Betty entered the ballroom, she makes her way over to the DJ to discuss the last formality of the evening. When ‘Sexy Back’ starts pumping through the ballroom, Betty feels a groan rumbling in the pit of her stomach.

Veronica Lodge can be _painfully_ persuasive.

“ _Bettyyyyyy_!” She shouted, having one too many champagnes, no doubt. “But it’s the bouquet toss!” It obviously didn’t matter to Veronica that Betty was actually working, and wasn’t a guest.

Soon enough, not taking no for an answer, Veronica grips Betty’s hand and pulls her to the centre of the dance floor before rushing to the front of the awaiting crowd. Betty does her best to hide amongst the numerous tipsy women (and a couple of even tipsier men). But, It’s the shrill screams of excited women (and the hoots from the men) as Veronica lets go of the bouquet that Betty looks up, with widened eyes that she sees the offending object mere inches away from her face.

_Ohmygod_.

Without a second thought, Betty’s hands reach up above her head and she feels the unmistakable resemblance of stems in her hands and she grimaces. Slowly opening her eyes, her arms fall in front of her slowly and her eyes snap to the bouquet in front of her. Almost teasing her. She swallows hard and forces a smile, as she sees Veronica clasp her hands together and squeal in excitement. Betty looks at her, as she grabs Jughead’s arm and looks to ask him if he got the shot. He just nods and smiles, not breaking eye contact with Betty.

Betty continues to smile and say thanks as the women and men that were just surrounding (and shoving her out of the way) congratulate her on the win, and comment on her great catch.  
 _Why people congratulate someone for catching a damn throwaway bouquet baffles her, but always being thankful had been ingrained in her by Alice Cooper from day one._

 

* * *

 

 

“Did you enjoy tonight, Juggie?” She asks, unlocking the door of her apartment.

“Yeah, it was good. One of the more fun weddings, that’s for sure. Those people know how to dance and have a good time. Definitely makes my job easier.” He chuckles, slipping out of his jacket and hanging out in the coat rack. “What about you, Betts?” 

_It’s all too domestic. It feels too domestic._

Betty makes her way into the kitchen to get a vase hidden away in one of the cabinets. Once she finds the only vase she has, she fills it with water and places the _damn_ throwaway bouquet in it.  She reaches up and pulls her hair tie out and shakes her head, letting out a sigh of relief, “Yeah, I did. I’m glad it’s over though, just quietly.” She says through a small smile.

“It was a big wedding, and you did an amazing job. Pulling it all together,” running his hands through her hair, “In fact, there’s no words to describe the job you did there tonight.” 

Betty closes the gap between them, and wraps her arms around his waist, “they looked so happy.” She murmurs against his chest.

“They did, they’re very much in love.” He responds.

She feels like it’s a now or never moment to ask how he feels— has tonight maybe changed his mind, even in the slightest. But in the same train of thought she’s also worried he’ll say no, and what happens when he says that— does she simply do what Betty Cooper does best?  
 _Yes. She’ll just smile and carry on. Water off a ducks back, right?_

“Juggie, about the bouquet…” she begins, “it doesn’t _mean_ anything. I don’t expect anything.”  
 _You’re an idiot, Betty, she mentally berates herself. It’s just a bouquet._

Jughead pulls away, “Betty - “

“Really, it’s _nothing_. I know how you feel about weddings and marriage, and I just…” She unwraps her hands from his waist and moves toward the couch, “I just want you to know, it’s a silly bunch of…. _beautiful_ flowers.”

“Betty - “ he started again.

“ _Seriously_ , Jug - “

“Betty,” pressing a finger to her lips, “will _you_ shut up and let _me_ speak?”

She quickly nodded.

“Thank you,” removing his finger from her lips, “marriage has left a bitter taste in my mouth, which you know about. Between my parents, and my best friend. I haven’t been lucky enough to be surrounded by people who fall in love, and stay in love. It’s a concept that has never appealed to me, at all. It scares the shit out of me, Betty.”

He stands up, and walks to the window.

“ _Jug_ \- “

“I’m so in love with you, Betty. I’m scared that if we were to take that step… I’d somehow fuck it up, I’d lose you, and I’d somehow hurt you.”

Betty sits in silence— allowing his words to sink through her skin, and settle into her bones. Her heart aches at his confession, but still she rises from her spot on the couch and her hands reach for his, like on instinct. She wants to feel his skin on hers, feel his warmth. Intertwining her fingers through his, Betty moves to stand in front of him, “ _Juggie_ ,” she cups his face, with her free hand and rubs the pad of her thumb over the tears that have fallen, “I love you, a lot. I’m with you for the long haul, I promise you.” Planting a kiss on the corner of his upturned mouth, Betty whispers, “and, don’t worry, the long haul doesn’t mean I expect a ring. I’m happy knowing that you love me.”

Jughead closes the gap, crashing his lips to hers. With both of them fighting for dominance, he pulls away first, trying to catch his breath, whilst gripping her waist, “I can’t imagine my life without you, Elizabeth. I’m just going to need time.”

“I’ve waited my entire life for you, Forsythe. What’s a little longer?” She lets out a giggle as Jughead reaches behind her and slips his hands underneath her thighs.

“I can show you how much I love you, if you’d be interested,” he murmurs against her neck.

“Consider me interested.” Betty replies breathlessly.

 

* * *

 

**Eighteen months later**

 

Sitting in the far booth at Pop’s, having just finished a coffee, Betty was looking through her diary. Glancing at the retro clock on the wall, she noted that this potential client was _late_ ; only ten minutes, but still— _late_. Betty is perplexed, seeing as how urgently he wanted to see her.

 

_My fiancé and I have been dating for a little while now, and she’s busy, all the time. We would both love to meet you, but if it’s the both of us… are we able to meet this Friday at Pop’s?_ _I know it’s short notice, but weekends are out of the question, and her weekdays and weeknights are usually in front of her laptop or on her phone.  
_ _I’d appreciate this immensely._

 

Betty couldn’t say no, she knew exactly how his fiancé felt. With the wedding season in full swing, she saw Jughead every night, but usually when she would crawl into bed at some ungodly hour. The saving grace was that they now lived together; moving in was a huge and unexpected step, so when Jughead casually suggested it over pizza and Netflix one Wednesday night— Betty’s immediate reaction was, “ _shut up, Juggie, you’re joking…_ ” he _wasn’t_ joking, he _was_ serious, deadpan serious.  
Three months later, Jughead moved in.  
It was a relatively smooth transition; Jughead spent most nights at Betty’s, anyway. It just made sense for him to move in with her.

With her head walking down memory lane, Betty didn’t notice the chime of a new customer entering Pop’s, let alone noticing that very customer was in fact her potential new client, however when there was a clearing of a throat, Betty quickly turned her attention to the figure waiting at her table.

“ _Jug_ … what are you doing here? I’m meeting a client - “

“Yeah, I know,” He interjected, quickly, as he shoved his hands deep in to his jacket pockets.

“ _Oh..._ ” Betty raised an eyebrow, “I must’ve told you, sorry, I can’t remember,” she giggled lightly, “they’re running late anyway, and I haven’t heard from them, so.”

“What if I told you the client was here?” 

This question piqued Betty’s interest, “what are you talking about, Jug? I don’t even know who they are…” she stated, shifting to scan the diner around her. The sound of denim on vinyl had her turning around to find Jughead sitting opposite her.

Her eyes snapped to his palms flat on the table in front, and moved to his chest— his breathing was fast, uneven and short. Jughead was nervous. In the years that Betty had known Jughead, she could count on one hand how many times Jughead had been nervous.  
 _The day he moved in, the day she met FP and the day he met Kevin_. Telling her he loved her, asking her about them moving in together or even the first time they slept together— no nerves.

“I’m your client.” 

The three words that had tumbled out of his mouth— were quick, and mumbled. Betty wasn’t sure if she had heard him correctly, until he repeated himself, this time though— much clearer.

“You’re my, _what_?” Even though the second time was clearer, Betty still needed to know what was he playing at, “my client? As in the person I’m meant to be _meeting_.. _right_.. _now_?”

After a deep breath, Jughead nodded.

She shook her head, closing her diary, and tapping her pen on the hardcover, “I don’t understand.”

Betty could feel the blood pumping in her ears, and her heart thumping in her chest. Suddenly everything felt like a jigsaw puzzle; she had been presented all the pieces and was asked to put it all together. Shaking her head, firmly, she repeated her statement.

This time, Jughead leant back and moved one his hands deep into the pocket of his jacket. However, instead of pulling his hand out, it stayed there.  
“Elizabeth, how would you feel or go about planning my wedding?”

“ _Wh.. what.._ ”

He cleared his throat before Betty could finish whatever it is that she was about to say, “you see, there’s this woman. I’m batshit _crazy_ for her. She’s my world, and so much more. I’d do _anything_ for _her_. I took _far too long_ telling her, and I thought for a while I’d blown my chance.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and placed a small box on the table between them. “But for some unknown, and out of this world reason, this amazing woman, saw all of the stupid barriers I put up, and not only did she not judge me or back away for fear of ‘ _being too damaged’_ , she just slowly chipped away at them,” he let out a soft chuckle, “and I’m not even sure she _knew_ she was doing it.”

_“Juggie - “_  

“Shhh, let me finish.” Jughead opened the purple velvet box and his heart clenched at the gasp that fell from Betty’s mouth and the tears that were filling her twinkling green eyes, “I love you, Elizabeth Cooper. And I’d be fucking crazy if I didn’t put a ring on it. So, could I interest you in becoming my wife, my partner in crime, planner of my out of control schedule?”

Betty let out an uncontrollable sob and jumped out of the booth, clambering into the seat opposite, “ _Forsythe_ …” She began, presenting her left hand, “I could be very interested,” answering quietly between sobs, “now, put it on,” motioning toward the vintage ring with a pink sapphire stone sitting proudly in the box, “we have a wedding to plan.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos take us one step closer to more Bughead communication.
> 
> find me on Tumblr-  
> smoochmejuggie


End file.
